


Doctors in Therapy

by bayoublackjack



Series: Love in London [1]
Category: Elementary (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Established Relationship, F/M, Multiple Crossovers, POV Joan Watson, Post-Reichenbach, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1946829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayoublackjack/pseuds/bayoublackjack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a sober companion, helping people through their struggles was Joan Watson’s job, but John Watson was never just a client.  He was friend, a lover and a kindred spirit.  Sherlock’s death hit him hard and the grieving process brought them closer together.  So now that Sherlock has revealed that he faked his death, the two Watsons are forced to reevaluate their marriage, especially after the third Holmes brother, Joan’s Sherlock, revealed he knew the truth all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctors in Therapy

Joan and John Watson sat side by side in the doctor’s office.  They maintained a respectable distance between themselves, but their body language indicated a desire for closeness.  Their bodies were angled slightly in their chairs and their feet pointed towards one of another.  Joan had tucked her purse on the opposite slide of her chair so that nothing hung between except a pregnant silence.

John huffed in frustration, effectively breaking said silence.  “Do we really have to do this?” he asked.

Joan sighed.  “Would you prefer the alternative?  Skip therapy and just sign the papers?”

“I’d prefer to have a conversation with my wife without a bill attached.”

“I’m just here to act a mediator,” the doctor said.  “To facilitate a dialogue.”

Joan looked at John.  “There’s nothing wrong with seeking professional help to solve your problems.”

“I didn’t think we had a problem.”

“You walked out on me, John.”

“I came back.”

“ _After_ you spoke to Sherlock,” Joan reminded him.

John sighed softly and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “He’s my friend.”

“I understand that,” Joan replied.  “What I don’t understand is why you needed his validation to trust my word.” 

“Do you feel as though Sherlock was a catalyst in your separation?” the doctor interjected.

“Which one?” John asked.  “There are two of them.”

“Either.  Both.”

“I think…” Joan began.  “That since it was the Sherlocks that brought us together, it only makes sense that they’d drive us apart.”

“How about we start at the beginning?” the doctor suggested.  “Tell me how you met.”

John took a deep breath.  “It all started when my Sherlock faked his death.”

“And when mine came to London for answers,” Joan added.

 

~*~

 

“What exactly are we doing?” Joan asked Sherlock as they entered the building.

“I told you already.”

“Yea.”  Joan nodded.  “First, you drag me out of bed with packed bags and onto a plane to London.  Now you’ve made me wear this black dress all for the sake of your mysterious case.  I’m gonna need more than that.”

“It’s a case of paramount importance,” Sherlock replied.  “The suicide of a brilliant detective,” he added as they came upon a group of mourners gathered a small room.

“You think there was foul play involved?”

“I think…” Sherlock came to a stop in front of a photograph of the deceased.  “That my brother would never kill himself.”

“Wait.  Your _brother_?” Joan asked looking back and forward between Sherlock and the photograph.  “You never mentioned having another brother.”

“It never came up.”

Joan studied the image then read the name printed below it.  “Your brother was named Sherlock too?”

“My brother is named William,” Sherlock replied.  “William Sherlock Scott Holmes, to be exact.  Sherlock is a family name.”

“So let me get this straight.  You have a secret brother, also named Sherlock, who was a detective as well?”

“Good we’re on the same page.  Time to mingle!”

Joan hung close to Sherlock.  She had a lot of questions, but she’d save them for later.  For now, she’d help him get to the bottom of his brother’s death.  “Okay.  So obviously you think someone here can provide answers about your brother’s suicide.”

“Apparent suicide,” Sherlock corrected.

“Apparent suicide,” Joan amended.  “So where do we start?  Who knew your brother the best?”

“Ah.”  Sherlock gestured to a sullen looking man sitting alone.  “Come along, Watson.”  Sherlock tugged her along as he approached the lonely man.  “Just the man I’ve been looking for.”

The man looked up when Sherlock spoke.  “Sorry, have we met?”

“No, but allow me to introduce myself.  I’m Sherlock Holmes and this is my companion Dr Watson.”

The man exhaled sharply.  “Look…I don’t know what you’re playing at, but now isn’t the time.”

“Sherlock here is…well…the _other_ Sherlock’s brother,” Joan explained.

The man scoffed.  “There’s only one Sherlock Holmes.”

“Oh, if only that were true,” Mycroft replied disdainfully from over the man’s shoulder.

Sherlock turned to his brother.  “Fatty.”

Mycroft exhaled sharply and ignored Sherlock in favour of the other man.  “Dr Watson, meet the third Holmes brother.  The _other_ Sherlock.”

“If we’re being technical about it, I’m actually the _second_ Holmes brother,” Sherlock pointed out.  “And the _first_ Sherlock.”

Watson looked from Sherlock to Mycroft and back again.  “You’re telling me that there are _two_ Sherlock Holmes?” he asked in disbelief.

“And apparently two Dr Watsons,” Joan replied.  She extended her hand to the perplexed man.  “Joan Watson.”

John furrowed his brow, but took her hand.  “John.”

 

~*~

 

John stepped outside.  The fresh air was a welcome change from the stifling parlour.  He needed a break.  He needed a moment to himself away from the constant barrage of people with their questions and condolences.  He wasn’t in the right mind to deal with any of them, least of all Sherlock’s brother.  He may have had the same name, but John couldn’t bring himself to call him that.  As far as he was concerned, there was only one Sherlock Holmes and this man wasn’t him.

“Dr Watson,” a feminine voice came from over his shoulder.  John immediately recognised it as belonging to the woman he had just met, Joan.  “I just wanted to apologise for Sherlock.  He gets a little short sighted sometimes and doesn’t know when to stop.”

John turned to face her.  “Must be genetic.”

“Maybe.”  Joan smiled politely then glanced over her shoulder briefly before looking at him again.  “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Sorry?”

“I could use some fresh air and you look like you could use a drink,” Joan said.  “Are you interested?”

“Absolutely,” John answered without hesitation.

 

~*~

 

“So basically, she chatted me up at Sherlock’s fake memorial,” John explained.

“I wasn’t trying to pick you up,” Joan protested.

John looked at her.  “Try or not, you did.”

“What, in your estimation, is it that took you from that initial meeting to where you are now?”

Joan looked at John.  “We had a drink together.  Then another and another.  We began to realise that we had a lot in common.  We’re both doctors.  We both had our Sherlocks.”  She glanced at him.  “He was like a kindred spirit.”

“I fell for her,” John confessed.  “Hard.”

Joan nodded.  “It all happened so fast.”

“Do you think it was too fast?” the doctor questioned.

“Maybe.”  John shrugged.  “What was it?  Six months?”

“Something like that,” Joan replied.  “I had been going back and forward between New York and London.”

“I think part of me knew the only way to keep her in town was to put a ring on her finger,” John joked.

“Or I could have just tried to drag you to New York.”

“You did a few times.”

“London just felt right though.  I have friends here and so does John.  We started to build a life.  It was nice.”  She looked at him.  “And then…it wasn’t.”

“What changed?”

“Sherlock came back,” Joan answered.

“How did Sherlock’s returned affect your marriage?”

“I was blindsided,” John replied.  “I spent two years thinking that my best mate was dead.  Two years grieving his loss.  Then suddenly he pops up like everything was fine saying he faked his death.”

“Sherlock had help,” Joan continued.  “Mycroft covered for him and my friend Molly was part of the plan.”

“And the other Sherlock, her Sherlock, was in on it.”

“Sherlock wasn’t in on it,” Joan retorted.  “He just figured it out.”  She exhaled sharply.  “Between my Sherlock and Molly’s involvement, John was convinced that I knew the truth too.  That was the breaking point.”

“I was angry,” John replied defensively.

Joan scoffed.  “You walked out.”

“I overacted,” John admitted.

“And now?” the doctor asked.

“I don’t feel like John trusts me anymore,” Joan said.  “A marriage can’t work without trust.”

The doctor glanced at the clock on the wall.  “Our time is up, but I think we should start our next session with how we could help you regain your trust in one another.  So I want you both to work on a list of ways to achieve that goal.”

John stood up wordlessly while Joan thanked the doctor.  He waited for her as she scheduled their next appointment then they headed to the elevator together. 

“Well that was a waste,” John said.

“Would it hurt you to be positive?”

“I am positive.  I’m positive it was a waste.”  John hit the button to call the lift.  “He looked like a serial killer.”

“He’s a nice man.”

“You know who else seemed like a nice man?  Hannibal Lecter.”

“He’s not going to eat us.”

“He might.”

“He’s a vegetarian,” Joan commented.  “There was an advert for vegetarian cooking classes on his desk and he’s displaying the symptoms of early stage B12 deficiency.”

“You deduced him?”

“You didn’t?” Joan asked.  The elevator arrived and she stepped inside.  “Sherlock would be disappointed.”

John followed her inside the lift, pressing the button for the ground floor.  “Which one?”

“Both.”

“So he won’t eat us.  Still could be a killer.”

“Why would he kill us?” Joan challenged.  “Just to watch us die?”

John paused thoughtfully.  “His cufflinks are roses.”

“So?”

“He also had a plaque from the British Association of Rose Breeders and photographs of roses all over his office,” John observed.  “So obviously he’d use our bones as meal to grow his prized roses.”

Joan tilted her head to one side.  “I could see that.”

“Like I said, killer.”

Joan cracked a smile.  “What are we doing?”

John smiled back.  “We’re having fun.  Remember how that works?”

“We always had fun, John.  That was never our problem.”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t.”

Joan sighed softly.  “Sherlock is going back to New York soon and I think I should go with him.”

John nodded slowly then suddenly shook his head.  “No.  Nope.  I refuse to accept that.”

“John…”

“You’re my wife, Joan.  That might not mean anything to you anymore, but it means something to me,” he insisted.  “I only agreed to therapy because I figured it was the only way to keep you, but it seems like you’ve already got one foot out the door.”

“I haven’t left yet,” Joan reminded him.

“But you’re still living with Divya.”

“Divya is living with me,” Joan corrected.

“In _our_ home.”

“You moved back to Baker Street and she needed a place.  It just worked out that way.”

“Well maybe I’m ready to come back home.”

“What about Sherlock?”

“I can deal with my Sherlock.  Can you deal with yours?”

“It’s not our own Sherlocks that we need to deal with,” Joan countered.  “It’s each other’s.”


End file.
